


Our December Sun Is Setting

by Evenseven



Category: Gomorra - La Serie | Gomorrah (TV)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Writing, Canon Compliant, Light Angst, M/M, Minor spoilers for S3 finale, No Beta, PWP without Porn, Sort Of, double ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22446016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenseven/pseuds/Evenseven
Summary: In the darkest corner of the night, he had been hoping that he was still needed by someone in this cruel world, that he was still important to Gennaro, that he was not alone though thousands of kilometers divided.
Relationships: Ciro Di Marzio/Gennaro "Genny" Savastano
Kudos: 4





	Our December Sun Is Setting

**Author's Note:**

> January entry.  
> I'm just so sorry I wrote all the shit quality fics and just so sorry I'm still alive.. :/
> 
> Title from [Brothers on a Hotel Bed](https://youtu.be/xvdwsGTk-18) by Death Cab For Cutie  
> "You may tired of me  
> As our December sun is setting  
> 'Cause I'm not who I used to be"

Darkness creeped into the edge of the sky, Ciro let out a soundless sigh as he looked at his own reflection in the mirror, only to see a pair of weary eyes staring back at him. The small clock stood on the night stand showed that it was a quarter past six, he still had plenty of time.

The negotiation went well, in fact, way too well compared to what he had thought in advance. He was prepared to see a fight, see disagreement, despite, and blood. But none of that happened, instead, the process was smooth and he didn’t even need to intervene. It wasn’t a bad thing, all things considered, it was just too unrealistic for a pessimist like him.

It’s not a good sign when things become too easy, he learned that from blood and tears. Something’s about to happen, there wasn’t a concrete prove but he just could tell that his precaution won’t be in vain. He could taste the danger in the back of his tongue, and he was never wrong every time he felt that kind of pulse drumming in his head. The thing about Enzo was weird, Sangueblu was acting weird, that he could almost bet his brain on the manipulation of that little shit Valerio. That shithead in a suit must have thought himself so high and mighty all the time, a cunt like him would take any chance to talk shit about Ciro or anyone that doesn’t have a pretty background. Ciro could only sneer, Valerio never knew what kind of deprivation they had to go through in order to survive, and now he’s the one talking and making decision. Too bad he didn’t had the chance to crack that rat skull himself, but Gennaro will do the job for him one day, hopefully, and it’s not the problem in hand anyway.

He had something else in mind that he had to do, and if he kept procrastinating, he might never have the chance to do it again.

Ciro took a shower and shaved, but not the way he used to enjoy doing. He couldn’t care less about what he looked like, especially after the whole Bulgaria thing. He would pick himself a nice jacket to hide his shivering from coldness inside, and to make sure there’s always a pack of cigarette in his pocket. He wanted to put on some cologne and found out that he didn’t have any, he remembered the last one he really had was a nice gardenia and licorice scent spray, he used it quite often though he never like that scent too much, after all, it was a gift from Deborah.

Things were never the same again.

Failed to find a cologne to use, he picked himself up from the sink and walked to the coffee table, trying his best to avoid looking into the mirror again.

The vortex was too deep, too dark, too drowning for a broken heart. He was more and more afraid to see himself, a man he couldn’t recognize. Ugly, brutal, indifferent, lonely, hurt…Among all the words to describe himself, none of those could satisfy the sick pride in the back of his mind that uplifts his self-hatred more than anything.

He was just too tired, tired of fight the world and himself all his life. He didn’t really have the appetizer for anything, so he grabbed a bottle of chilled beer, which he threw it all up later. It doesn’t matter, he told himself taking out the folded picture he had stuck in the mirror frame, he had better things to do than eating or sleeping, as always.

It was twenty minutes to eight when he walked out of the grave yard, if the wall clock inside the guardhouse was accurate.

He didn’t cry, he couldn’t cry, for the things he had lost caused by his own hands. He had always been the sinner, and tears weren’t for sinners. He knew that it was all his own fault, but he wasn’t really offered any choice other than climbing up the clan in no matter what cost.

The kind of loneliness waiting at the end of the dark road, was the only thing he couldn’t anticipate and endure.

He was left with nothing at the end, and there was no point for him to keep struggling any more.

Before tonight, even before he came back from Bulgaria, he was ready to end his life for good, but now it was all for Gennaro, at least it’s what he would like to think.

Is it all worth the effort? A voice hissed in the back of his head, sending hesitation and confusion through his body.

He owned the kid a lot of things he might not be able to repay them all, but he would do his best to keep Gennaro and his family safe, as long as he could. To be honest, he was only trying to show his appreciation without saying it out loud. Of all the things he still possessed, nothing he couldn’t devote to Gennaro, maybe except for that sick little pride of his.

It was never easy to admit, even it’s just to himself, that he wanted Gennaro more than anyone else right now.

In the darkest corner of the night, he had been hoping that he was still needed by someone in this cruel world, that he was still important to Gennaro, that he was not alone though thousands of kilometers divided.

Ciro pulled out a cigarette, thinking it might be the one last time he lingered on this delusional affection. He just couldn’t ignore the bad bojo he had, and it almost freaked him out when the phone in his pocket suddenly started ringing.

“I need to talk to you,” It’s the guy he was just thinking about, and there was something very close to anxious in his voice, though covered with heavy breathing, “Where are you?”

“What is it?” The tone in Genny’s voice made him unnecessarily more unease than before, and he really didn’t want to panic just yet.

“I’m at your hotel, you’re not here.”

“What is it?” Ciro asked again, “Is there anything I have to know now?”

“Come back, I need to talk to you,” A pause, silent but dense, “And it’s important.”

He needed not to say more, Ciro told himself walking back to the car, it was a simple enough task comparing to all he had been doing recently.

It was five minutes past nine when Ciro stepped back into his gloomy hotel room, which he had spent quite some depressing days cramming in and staring at the ceiling, and he didn’t even want to question why was Gennaro sitting at his couch instead of waiting outside in the hallway.

The man who used to be so naive and innocent, now all dressed up like a successful bossiness man, well-inherited the insidious leer of his father as well, looking straightly into Ciro’s eyes like he’s trying to convert some encoded messages through that silent gaze. They weren’t ever the same again, Ciro recognized this concrete fact long time ago, and was still amazed by how much they both changed.

“Genna’,” Ciro tried to keep his calm as usual, averting the young man’s gape by walking up to the balcony window, “What’s that you want to tell me?”

It’s just easier, to look into the dirty window glass, the pitch black night sky, the street lights breaching all the smoke and noise, all of them just more natural than his own face, or the burning gaze of a certain friend of his. He didn’t have many friends nowadays, or didn’t have any if he wanted to draw the line. Yet Gennaro was different, he was always different, different in a sense that he couldn’t really distinguish from himself. A tiny part in the back of his brain kept thinking about a certain man he had known for years, and Ciro was actually thinking _for_ him, not just about him, a thing he could not say often.

For Ciro, he would like to think that he still had something other than himself to hold onto. How many lonely nights were left in his dark life? He couldn’t tell but wished there weren’t be too many.

If Gennaro won’t be there bringing the light, he would have no excuse he could use to fight another day.

“I…” Genny opened his month, the anxiety was too obvious for Ciro, even without looking at his facial expression, “I don’t feel good about this, Ciru’. There’s something off and it could be dangerous.”

“I know.” That’s all he had to say instead of expressing all like cliché, that he knew all the risks, and he’s willing to take it for him.

“I don’t know, Sangueblu is a little shit, I still can’t trust him even for partnership, there’s something wrong about this celebration party tonight as well, I just…” It’s been quite a long time since he heard Genny mumbling like this, it’s been a life time long in fact. The kid had learned to shut his month any time he hesitated in words, using death glare instead to bluff. And he must be really worried if he lost control over his words like this.

“Genna’,” It was against his intend but Ciro couldn’t help bur turning back, making eye contact with the young man apparently comforted him more than a little, “Don’t worry.”

“It’s an important meeting to show your interest in partnership.” So that you would have more resource for your own business.

“Enzo is not going to play with us, I know for sure he wouldn’t.” His little pal Valerio would, I’ll have to keep an eye on that.

“You don’t have to worry, nothing bad’s gonna happen.” Because I will taking care of that if it happens, to keep you safe.

“I don’t know,” Gennaro let out a sigh, “What if he’s trying to get rid of us tonight? What if he forces a gun on me?”

“I won’t let that happen.” Ciro knew exactly what he would do if that happen, he knew which direction to put point the gun when in desperation.

“No, you don’t understand!” There’s a note of recklessness in Genny’s voice, as he stood up from the couch and closed the space between them in two steps, “I’m not worried about getting shot, I have prepared for that a long time ago, but…I’m worried for _us_ , Ciru’, I can’t stop thinking about what if…”

“I said you don’t need to worry, Genna’, whatever it is, I’ll get it taken care of.” He tried to sound as firmly as possible, omitting the most important part of how he’s going to get it taken care of.

“I don’t want you to do it for me, and I don’t need you to prove anything to me, not anymore,” Genny’s gaze was not flaming with something indescribable, looking straight into Ciro’s eyes, “I-You need to know that…”

“Genna’,” And he was interrupted by Ciro, with a pair of dark eyes reflecting a hint of orange color, in desperation, in taciturn pleading, in denial, “I know, I know, you don’t have to say it.”

He didn’t need to, didn’t want to hear it, for whatever Gennaro had to say. He knew what was coming, and he couldn’t help but being _afraid_ of hearing another vain promises. It was sadly strange, considering how many vain promises he had made to Gennaro from years ago, and now he’s the one refused to taste his own medicine.

“No, let me say it, let me explain how much I’ve prepared for this…”

Gennaro didn’t get to finished the sentence, because in one step Ciro closed the gap between them, half a second later his lips was pressing on the corner of Genny’s month. Gentle like a fiber, fierce like a blade. He tried to keep his hands steady as they found their way to Genny’s cheekbones, and that’s all he could do to defend his sick pride. He wanted to show that he didn’t need any affection no matter how much his heart screamed for it, that he was fearless, that he was still unbreakable.

Gennaro didn’t move, he just stood there staring into his eyes with those undetectable dark irises, like he was afraid of scaring him off, like he was waiting for a tactile answer, like he was asking for something much denser than a permission.

And that was something Ciro couldn’t give.

He almost laughed, only ten minutes into conversation, he’s about to ditch all the prerequisites and admit that he wanted it, he had been wanting it for too long.

“You’ll have plenty of time to explain after tonight,” He murmured against his lips, feeling Gennaro’s skin started to burn under his fingers, or it’s just he finally realized how cold his hands were all this time, “It’s time to go, we can’t miss the party, for better or worse.”

One last touch, he let his fingertip brushing through the soft skin he just kissed, if that even counted as a kiss. After tonight, he thought, he would prepare better for a long overdue confession something more vital than vows and lies.

It’s nine thirty when they departed from the hotel room, and Ciro was ready, and much more primed than whatever he had in mind three hours ago, to sacrifice his life for a certain someone if necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic so I can do calligraphy. Pretty much.


End file.
